


What If.....

by Incognitowrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incognitowrites/pseuds/Incognitowrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up after Oliver and Felicity's night in Nanda Parbat, each chapter is a stand alone connecting to the first chapter.<br/>A series of 'what if's' about their relationship. </p><p>(HINT: They always find their way to each other)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What if.....?

**Author's Note:**

> How the morning after should have been….
> 
> Yea that’s right, this is the first installment of the “wow, even if i met you (method of Felicity and Oliver meeting), I’d still hit that fine ass and then get married to you" series. Not necessarily in that order, they will be stand alone’s that slightly relate to this short preface.  
> ENJOY, LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE as this is my first time writing in YEARS.

“Did you mean it?” She asked absently, her fingers running along the taut skin of his rib cage. Goosebumps chased the path of her thin fingers. He watched with a warm smile on his lips as the girl beside him brought sunshine to even the darkest abyss of the world.

 

He knew the time between them was dwindling quickly. With every brush of her fingers the possibility of something more; the more he’d dreamt of since he saw her holding little Digglet. The more that had him imagining the sparkle of his mother's ring on her finger as she hacked into Interpol, slipped further and further out of reach.

“Hmmm?” He replied lazily, his eyes roaming over her figure fondly before meeting her wide cornflower blue eyes, unmarred by the frames that lay somewhere forgotten on the ground of Nanda Parbat.

She tilted her head at him, so much like the first time they’d officially met, that his soft content smile stretched into a full grin. He chuckled as he buried his head into the stands of blonde hair that had spread around on the red silk sheets. He peeked back up at her playfully, her eyes sparkled with amusement. She tucked in her chin and squinted her eyes at him.

“Everything I’ve done, it led me right here to this moment.” She spoke mockingly, her voice lowering comically and dramatically, throwing in a slight roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. He leaned towards her and nipped at her lips.

“Are you making fun of me Ms. Smoak?” He asked smiling against her, his stubble brushing her skin making it flush pleasantly.

“Mhm most certainly Mr.Queen.” She smiled seductively and kissed him.

 

After spending so many years denying herself of kissing him and the months where they both pretended nothing was going on, she decided she’d kiss him at least once every five minutes to make up for lost time. She rolled on top of him, pressing their bodies together again, unmarred pale skin against tanned raised scars. She smirks at him when he harshly inhales and catches her lips again, his tongue skimming hers.

She pulls back happily and he whines uncharacteristically.

“Well I guess you’re right. It did lead you to this moment, it led you to me. Well, inside me. Since we had sex. You know, you were there, and a very active participant in it. God, a really good one too. Yea, I'm going to stop right now.”  She babbled, the words tumbling from her mouth uncontrollably.

He kissed her, pulling her against the hard lines of his body and flexing into her so she gasped.

“You don’t have to stop. I love when you do that, and every time I’d have to hold myself back because it always makes me want to kiss you.” He said as his hands ran along her soft sides.

“Well, I’m all yours.” She responds, her fingernails scraping his stubble.

 

“I always have been Oliver.” She said,  her voice lower and full of emotion as she looked at him lovingly.

“Mine huh? I love you.” He replied huskily.

“I love you.” He kissed her slowly and sweetly. She pulled back again despite his groan.

“Oh relax. I'm serious about that question.” Her eyebrows rose to her forehead.

“What question?” He rolled his eyes, but humored her.

“Do you really think everything led you to right now? Do you think it would have been like this if we’d met before the Grrrr Arrow stage?” She mused, as her fingernails scratched the back of his neck lightly.

He hesitated, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown before answering, his soothing hands stopping on her waist. His eyes were hard and intense like they were when they were under the hood.

“I’m not proud of the man I was then Felicity, I was irresponsible, selfish, and undeserving of everything I had. I'm glad you didn't know me back then. But there’s no way I was that much of an idiot, that I wouldn't fall in as much love with you as I am now.” He said, his face smoothing. He places a gentle kiss on her nose and she giggles.

“If we had met in a board room, I’d still want you.” His hands skimmed the pale of her breast as he pushed against her. She gasped in reaction, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“If it was when we were children, you’d still be my best friend.” He continued with a low voice, his hands running down her arms. He grasped her capable fingers in his own.

“If it was in college, I’d still want to kiss you.” He laid a soft sweet kiss to her pale lips.

“If it was at some bar I’d still love your babble.” He smiled softly down at her. Her eyes watered as she watched him intently.

“If it was on the island, you’d still be my light.” He whispered in her ear as his tongue flicked over the small arrow running through her ear.

“If I wasn’t the Arrow, you’d still be my salvation.” Her breath fanned across his forehead as his lips found her neck.

 ****  


He pulled back and stared lovingly at her, her eyes were dark with desire and wide, as he told her everything she’d ever wanted to hear.

 

“If you were still Felicity Smoak in Las Vegas, some waitress with your brown hair, I’d still want to marry you.” His voice was low and intense, so reminiscent of the Arrow but with a deep with emotion.

“You want to marry me?” She squeaks. He smiles shyly and pushes a curl from her face.

“Not today, not tomorrow, but one day.” He said. “One day you’ll be Mrs.Queen.”  Her eyes widened comically as he finished.

 

“Am I really that good in bed that you want to marry me?”

He laughed heartily and rolled them over so she lay on top of him.

“I’m not going to say no.” He smiled into the skin of her neck.

“And you can’t stay away from me, so the point is moot anyway.” Oliver smirked, kissing the skin behind her ear.

“I’ll spend every day proving it to you.” He whispers.

“What if we don’t have everyday?” She whispered back, tossing metaphorical cold water over the both of them. Forcing them both to become aware that these sheets aren't hers, that this is not either of their homes, and that they aren't as safe as they deluded themselves to think.

“Then I promise that every day we do have, I’ll tell you I love you. I’ll show you that I love you and maybe if we’re lucky…”

“If it’s meant to be.” She replied nodding. He pulls back and gazes at her with all the love he feels for her.

“It’s meant to be Felicity. It has been since I walked into your office. We were always going to get to this point.” He smiled sadly.

“You’re just trying to get into my pants.” She said sassily, her cheeks blushing and her eyes filled with adoration. He laughed lowly, her hands skimming her sides.

“I'm not even out of them yet, but yes eternally. ” He moved against her, she gasped and laughed as they rolled back over, losing themselves in their last few moments of happiness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If we'd met in a board room I'd still want you
> 
> (self explanatory)
> 
> It's scientifically proven there is not enough sassy Felicity/ babbles in the world, I'm just trying to solve the problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and is reading!

* * *

* * *

 

He was late.

 

Of all days to be late it was today. Well, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he was late every day. But it wasn’t every day that a company with as much positive

press, innovative tech, and astronomical numbers as Wayne Enterprises was considering a possible merger. A merger that could save Queen Consolidated and thousands

of jobs. The company had been on it's deathbed since the undertaking's link to his parents, so it was inherently important that today he made the best impression

possible.

****He tapped his foot on the marble floor of the executive elevator and willed the lift to move faster, cursing under his breath.  Last night's patrol had run longer than it

should have, he and Digg had ran all over the city chasing down a heavily armed criminal they’d found on nothing but dumb luck. It’d come down to guessing where the

man would be, and after four failed attempts they had finally found him. After he was arrowed and all was said and done, it was five in the morning and the sun was

rising over the skyline. Oliver had collapsed on the mats of the foundry with a blanket, having gone three full days without sleep and not trying to make it to a fourth.

He slept for four hours, and was now an hour late to the all important meeting.

His hands worked to secure his cuff links as quickly as he could, cursing as one clattered to the floor as the doors of the elevator slid open. He picked it up and walked out,

nearly colliding with his EA Gerry who was staring at him wide eyed. The kid had been calling him relentlessly and had given every excuse in the book to keep their guests

in the conference room, but both of them had run out of plausible ideas pretty early on.

“Mr.Queen.” He breathed with relief, handing him his now cold coffee and the file on Wayne Enterprises.

 

 

“Mr.Wayne is waiting in the conference room.” He said nervously.

 

“I know. Thank you.” He replied, briskly walking towards the glass room.

 

“And boss?” Gerry said as he swung the door open. Oliver shot him a look and walked through the door, ignoring the comment.

 

A few members of his legal team sat at one end of the long mahogany table, a mixture of panicked and annoyed expressions on their faces. A few glared at him as if he

didn’t know how important this meeting was.  In front of them sat files of papers neatly stacked and all squared away.

 

In comparison, the other end of the table looked less put together, more like some kind of tropical depression had hit a filing cabinet.

Two people sat independently from the group of his employees in chairs facing one another. They were sitting closely and whispering, the tall chairs obstructing their

hunched figures from his view.  

 

“Hello everyone. I’m sorry I’m late.” He said, reaching for his jacket and buttoning it with one hand.

 

 

Bruce Wayne spun in his chair and glanced at Oliver disapprovingly, he was easily recognizable from the papers and the multiple benefit’s Oliver had attended. Frustration

was evident in the man’s expression, it was a well known fact that Bruce Wayne did not like to be kept waiting.

Bruce stood quickly and approached leisurely; exuding an air of nonchalance but unmistakable power. Although he was not much taller than Oliver, his presence was

intimidating, no doubt enough to make a lesser man cower under his withering stare. But Oliver was not a lesser man. Wayne’s eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a

thin line. He did nothing out of the ordinary, but there was an unmistakable tenacity in his glare, one that was practically tangible.

 

 

Oliver recognized it as the same manor of intimidation he used beneath his hood, and noted how it felt to be on the receiving end of it.

Wayne stared at Oliver, sizing him up, his brown eyes sharp and calculating. The other figure stayed in the chair, and was actually spinning in it like a bored child would.

Was it bring your child to work day? Oliver wondered.

“Queen.” Wayne said coolly, extending his hand and reached out to Oliver. He grasped it firmly and they shook, squeezing the other's hand painfully.

“Wayne.” He replied similarly.

Out of the corner of his eye he realized the chair has stopped spinning, and high heels tapped audibly against the marble, stopping in front of the warring men.

He kept his eyes trained on Bruce, refusing to be the first to give in and look away, the other man did the same. So they stood with their hands locked, struggling

for the upper hand in a battle of wills.

 

“Bruce you promised you wouldn’t pee all over the building until we signed the papers first. That includes Mr.Queen.” A woman’s voice scolded.

 

“I’m sure Mr.Queen's extremely expensive slacks would appreciate it. Even though urine is 95% water and 5% urea so that’d be like giving them a wash I guess.

Technically you might be able to get away with it, but I’m sure he dry cleans. Okay, I’m done talking. Bruce help.” The soft voice pleaded.

He felt the hard lines of his grimace soften as the voice babbled uncontrollably.

Oliver watched as the Wayne’s expression likewise had thawed, his hard gaze softening instantly and his lips twitching in response to the voice .  He released Oliver’s hand

and put both of his hands up in a show of defeat then turned to the woman, throwing a final glare at Oliver.

A petite blonde stood between the men, her eyes a bright blue jewel tone behind a pair of glasses. A pen hung from between her full lips which were bright red. Her teeth

pressed gently on the pen shaft as she cocked her head to the side slightly. She was wearing bright red fuck me heels, and her hair was mussed and curled like maybe she

had taken the advice of her shoes. She was quite the sight, wearing a tight black dress hugging every slope and curve of her pale skin. In short, she was every man’s

fantasy and had him absolutely drooling. His gaze unabashedly traveled down her body and paused on her legs.

They were shapely and toned, looking longer than her height allowed in those damn heels of her’s. Wayne slid gracefully back into his chair and watched Oliver carefully

with a protective look schooled on his face. The woman stayed standing, holding a file in one arm and a very large coffee in the other.

“Felicity Smoak.” She said, smiling brightly at him.

 

The woman must be Wayne’s EA, the man had been known to be some what of a playboy and his choice of secretary

with the bombshell blonde seemed to reflect that.

 

“Nice to meet you Ms.Smoak. I’m Oliver Queen. Would you do me a favor and make me a couple copies? ” He asked as he handed her a small stack of papers and smiled.

 

“I’m sorry?” She asked and accepted them confusedly.

 

“I need about 20 or so, stapled please. I’d really appreciate it.” He continued.

 

The warm smile on her face dissolved into an expression of distaste. Felicity visibly stiffened in front of him, her arms cross on her chest defensively and her eyes flare.

He watched confused as Wayne sat back in his chair with a shit eating grin on his face and rested his hands behind his head, the picture of ease and amusement.

Oliver immediately he knew he was in trouble.She’d stepped closer to him and was pointing a manicured nail at his chest viciously, he stumbled back a step in surprise.

“I’ll have you know Mr.Queen. I earned my doctorate when I was 22 years old from MIT. I built the computer and security systems most fortune 500 companies operate

with, including yours. I’ve built my first computer when I was six years old. I’m the youngest Vice President in the history of Top 100’s, and I have an IQ of 140. I could

hack into your accounts on my phone in less than a minute and I could put you on the FBI’s most wanted list if I felt like it. I’m a certified genius in my field and very

humble obviously.” She scoffs, but continues.

 

She walks until she was practically nose to nose with Oliver, even if she was more than a few inches shorter. Her passion came off of her in waves, and god damn if it

wasn't attractive.

“Yet, I have never dabbled in the secretarial arts or copy making. But if I did, I would have had those done yesterday before a company came to bail you out, I would have

told you that your shirt is buttoned wrong, and I sure as hell would have had you at a meeting of significance such as this one early, if not on time." She jabbed a finger at

him and went on.  

 

"You’d do well to remember that Wayne Enterprises is booming Mr.Queen, and that it’s you that needs us.”  She finished.

 

If his mouth wasn’t open before, it was now. He'd just got his ass absolutely handed to him. He stuttered to apologize to her in attempt to redeem his character, but

truthfully he’d made an absolute ass out of himself. He’d insulted her intelligence greatly and had degraded her, the vice president of the company.

 

Bruce sat at the table with a self satisfied smirk, while Oliver’s employees blanched. A few even started conspicuously editing their resumes on their tablets, having lost

faith in the last resort of keeping their jobs at QC. Gerry sat in the corner biting back a smile, he couldn't even blame the kid, he’d had just got ripped apart by a 5’4

blonde who couldn’t be older than twenty five and weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet; he’d deserved it.

 

“I..I’m so sorry Ms.Smoak, I shouldn’t have assumed.” He stuttered extremely uncomfortably.

 

Not uncomfortable just because he had possibly blown the company's chances in less than two minutes, or that he offended the Vice President of WE and received a very

public glorified scolding. But primarily because but he wasn’t in control. Control wasn’t something the calculated Oliver Queen gave up easily, neither the man nor the

mask did well without it. But she had him pinned, and it was strangely and uncomfortably attractive to him. His fingers rubbed together instinctually, begging for the

security of an arrow between his fingers, anything to restore order.

 

“Did I say you could call me Ms.Smoak?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

His pulse sped up, sweat beaded on the nape of his neck, and for the first time in years he felt a spike of fear. The hilarity of his current conundrum was not lost on him,

he'd lived through years of torture, physical pain that had driven people mad, and had escaped servitude from the darkest people the world has to offer. But he shuttered

in reaction to a beautiful woman in high heels, whose sharpest weapon is her tongue and wit, not sword or knife. 

 

 

But even more pronounced than the odd strike of fear was the palpable desire that coursed through him. Even as the woman had metaphorically held her stiletto sheathed

foot over his balls and threatened to push down.

 

 

Response wise he was lost. Only Chinese or Russian phrases came to mind, as he desperately tried to formulate and apology in English. His attempts to find his footing

were futile , glancing around the room as if there were cue cards on how to not be an asshole posted on the walls.

 

“I’m sorry Ms.Vice President mam. I once again shouldn’t have assumed mam.”

 

 

He felt sweat starting to run beneath his button up, which he yanked straight, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life. He worked to keep his eyes on hers and

not the cut outs peeking from beneath her blazer. She was stunning, and her anger had flushed her pale skin a beautiful pink. Her lips quirked up into a mischievous smile

and her blue eyes flashed from behind her frames.

 

“Relax Mr.Queen, now I’m just screwing with you. Well the last part anyway, I was serious about the first part. Call me Felicity." She said, shuffling the items in her hands

to stick one out to shake his hand. He grasps it carefully like she might change her mind, and shakes it.

 

"Sorry, I’m not usually so confrontational, but I’m getting significantly tired of being underestimated. You’re not the first to make that mistake and won’t be the last, but it

is frustrating either way. With that being said, I’d love to forget about these past few minutes and hear what you have to offer our company. ” She smiled sunnily, the

darkness evaporating from her face in an instant.

A collective sigh of relief was heard from all of his people in the room, he hadn’t blown the meeting thirty seconds into introductions apparently. His own stiffness melted

and his anxiety deflated.

 

“I promise I’ll behave.” She said throwing her hands up, and smiling at his department who all looked smitten with her; as was Oliver, but he was also confused.

 

She’d knocked him off kilter and had taken away all aspects of control he relied on, it was bad enough Bruce was here, but this woman was something else entirely.

Her lips pulled into a smirk at the dumbfounded expression he wore and with a cock of her head, she spun on her heel and sat back in her chair, spinning once before

pulling back up to the table.

He focused himself entirely on not saying something company altering or tripping on the ten foot walk to the table, breathing a sigh of relief as he sat down. He sat

opposite of her and pulled his jacket over the jaggedly buttoned shirt he was now overly self conscious about tightly. Oliver cleared his throat as he saw Bruce lean

towards Felicity and whisper something with a devious smile on his face. She replied with a scowl and a quiet "shut up" while Wayne smirked. It was clear they were close,

but how close was yet to be discerned.

 

 Oliver knew of Wayne's reputation with women, it was much like his own. Except Oliver's was for mere show, he white knuckled the table as

he thought of the interesting and beautiful woman across from him being another toy of Wayne's. A wave of unsuspecting possessiveness crashes over him, and he knew

that he needed to have this woman. 

 

"So shall we get started?" He asked composedly, despite his magnified discomfort with the progressing situation.

 

"Please." She said, gesturing to begin. Wayne sat quietly, his eyes watching him intently.

 

Oliver stood and moved to the front of the room, taking a calming breath and thinking of his father, his family, and the city.

 

"The Bottom line is that Starling City is dying. One half of the city was destroyed, the little of it that’s been rebuilt is crime ridden and impoverished. We don't have the  

resources and reputation after the hit our company took a year ago after my mother's judgment calls. We've done our best to separate ourselves from that catastrophe

and we've taken as much responsibility as appropriate for the damages caused, even though it will never be enough." He winced.

There's never going be enough reparations for the lives lost and the homes destroyed. The so called 'city's guardian' hadn't even known about the earthquake devices, and

the city had crumbled beneath him as he watched from the roof of a building. He'd failed Tommy and Laurel, along with thousands of others who died in the rubble. He'd

failed the city he vowed to protect. 

 

"The people of this city have lost family, their homes, and their entire lives, it would only be detrimental if this company became another casualty. We currently employ

15,000 people in our Starling sector, people that need the work and income desperately. To create the large scale changes and job growth we aspire to, we need to be

competing on a large scale again. I want to right the wrongs of my family." Oliver said with passion.

 

"But to do so, We need the people's trust back, and when we do, investors will come." He finished, hoping it'd be enough, and sat back down.

 

Wayne looked even more disinterested than he did before, but Felicity had her eyes squinted at him behind her glasses as if she was trying to make out his character. She

bit on a the shaft of a pen as she watched him, her red lips closing around it in a way that had him pulling at his tie to loosen it. She stared at him a second longer before

scribbling some notes on a piece of paper. His hands flexed under the table against his pant leg.

 

“As admirable as your goal is Mr.Queen, frankly this is the business, not charity side of Wayne Enterprises. What do you have to offer us in return? If we are to forge a

partnership it's not in a bailout nature. It should be symbiotic." Felicity said, her legs crossing.

 

 

He's momentarily distracted by the length of her legs before he focuses back on her face. She raises an eyebrow at him, having caught his moment of appreciation. He

squirms in his seat uncomfortably, her unwavering gaze fanning his lust. He responds with a thick voice.

 

"We can offer a new market. One that hasn't been flooded and is substantially lucrative. We can offer new technology and some of the brightest talent in the country.

Starling also has a large untapped workforce. But mostly, opportunity for change and to make a difference." He said passionately.

 

Felicity looked at Bruce, who squinted at Oliver and rolled his eyes rudely, but Oliver knew better. He leant towards her and whispered

something, she replied enthusiastically.

 

"What percentage of your profits have gone to rebuilding the city since the earthquakes?" Bruce demands, not asks. 

 

 

Felicity simultaneously shrugs her blazer from her narrow shoulders and rests it on her chair, her smooth skin peeking out through small cutouts on the dress.

His mouth went dry and his swallows thickly, struggling to keep his gaze on Wayne, who was hawking him.

 

"Um about 15 percent."

 

"What progress has been made on QC's dime?" Felicity asked leaning forward interested.

 

His eyes followed the long line of her neck distractedly to where her blonde hair curled behind her ear, before dipping down to her chest.

 

"Seven low income housing communities and four homeless shelters. Food distribution programs have been running continuously." He answers.

 

"Hmm." She hummed and took a sip of her coffee.

 

 

She moaned a bit in distaste, and his body stiffened. It was killing him, she was killing him, considering how much he already wanted to push her on top of the table and

have his way with her.

 

"This is cold." She made a face at her coffee cup but continued to drink it anyway.

 

 

He couldn't stop looking at her. Wayne stared daggers at Oliver, not so subtly claiming what he thought was his own. Felicity made no move to prove otherwise and he

watched their interaction closely. Following Wayne's attention and where it lay, Felicity. She leant close to Wayne and said something. He replied heatedly, grazing her

wrist with his fingers.

"Relax." She replied with an eye roll and a shove in a very comfortable manor.  He hoped to god they were not together.

 

"Mr.Queen, how far are you willing to integrate with Wayne Enterprises? Are you prepared for a total takeover if that's what will give Starling what it needs?"

She asked, quirking an eyebrow and watching him carefully from behind her black glasses.

 

The question was tough, one that had his employees looking at him nervously. He got a nudge from his lawyer who shook his head no, but he knew he’d need to

answer this honestly. She wasn’t smelling for blood in the water, she was being logical. She was not the same caliber as Wayne, who sat on his throne of billion dollar

corporations devoid of emotion and set in his cold business proceedings. This woman wasn't about ruthless acquisitions, that he could tell. She needed to see emotion,

proof that he was the good guy, and he was willing to go as far as necessary short of taking off his hood. He could see it was Felicity who needed convincing. If he could

get her on board, she'd persuade Wayne.

 

"No, I'm answering." He replied quietly to his counsel.

 

He cocked his head and spoke directly to Felicity as if they were the only two people present.

"This company and my sister Thea are what's left of my family. We practically grew up running around in these offices. This place once represented hope to the people of

the city and myself, and now it's associated only with mistakes and disaster. Mistakes I wish my family hadn't made, but did. I'm doing everything I can to atone for them,

because it's the right thing to do. So yes, it'd be unbelievably difficult, but if it was for the best. I'd give it away in a heartbeat."

 

 

He concluded strongly, staring into her eyes. Letting all of his emotion shine through, the regret, the sadness, and the motivation. Her lips twisted to the side as she

looked at him from across the table absently as she worked out some problem in her head. She nodded once, then twice before leaning towards Bruce and whispering , he

answered her in short. She replied, her hands in the air and moving quickly before crossing on her chest.

 

"He's trying to save his city, that's something you should understand more than anyone." She said quietly, but not quiet enough that he didn’t catch it.

 

 

Oliver never took his eyes off of her. Wayne, unsurprisingly, frowns in response before giving an almost imperceptible nod to Felicity who smiles widely. Mergers and

acquisitions absolutely agreeing with her.

 

“Excellent!” She said, her first jutting into the air in triumph before she remembered herself. She spun back towards the table, and grinned.

 

“Well it would be stupid of us not to take you on honestly. Our own company has very similar goals in rebuilding our home city into a safe and prosperous area, we’d

love to join forces with you Mr.Queen.” She said with an excited smile.

His head hung in pure relief as the air puffed from his mouth. Thank God.

 

 

“Fantastic, thank you so much. I speak for all of Starling when I say we genuinely appreciate it.”

 

“We have conditions Mr.Queen. I’m going to be frank with you, don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re the end all and be all of the company anymore. Honestly your

attendance in the past months, your behavior, and your lack of experience is alarming. Changes will be made here, and we expect you to follow them without question.”

 Wayne said, his tone laced with menace. Just as quickly as it had fallen, Oliver's guard shot back up.

 

“I understand.” Oliver answered stonily, his jaw throbbing from clenching so hard. Wayne was an ass who needed a slug in the face.

 

“Until we think you’re fit to be a CEO of a company we associate ourselves with, Felicity will be acting as the CEO. You will be shadowing her until she says otherwise. We

will be purchasing sixty percent of the stocks for QC and will act as business partners. If I need talent, I will take it. If we tell you to be somewhere, you will go.

Those are our terms, take it or leave it.” He crossed his arms and sneered in distaste.

Joint control of the company is better than losing it entirely, and he believed wholeheartedly the woman smiling across from him would help him do justice.

 

“Of course.” He said reaching across the table and shaking Bruce’s hand. Felicity sits with a small smile on her face as she watches the interaction.

 

 

The two men rise and the rest of the table follows in succession. He positions himself by the glass door and nods as everyone exits, leaving only Felicity and Bruce.

 

“I have to be back in Gotham for a benefit.” He said glancing meaningfully at Felicity. She nodded in understanding, a private look passing between the two of them.

 

“You can finish up here Felicity. The helicopter is on standby.” He said and nodded at Oliver.

 

“Be careful tonight please.” She said, her eyes flashing with hidden meaning.

 

 

He watched confusedly as Wayne nodded at her reassuringly and left the room. She frowned as he left but turned to Oliver quickly, her expression smoothing.

 

“Mr.Queen, I don’t want you to worry about the state of the company. I won’t be making dramatic changes without you beside me discussing it, that I can promise you.”

Felicity smiled, becoming the very meaning of her name in front of him.

 

He smiled softly at the small woman, suddenly feeling very positive about being demoted to her shadow. He wouldn't mind being around her, getting to know the nuances

of Felicity Smoak. She was a woman, and he was a man after all.

 

“So, perhaps you could take me around the office if you have some time?” She asked.

 

“Absolutely.” He replied, holding the door for her as she walked through, watching as she walked through the glass door.

 He was totally screwed. 

 

 

“Ms.Smoak…” He started.

 

“Felicity.” She corrected.

 

“Felicity.” Her name rolled pleasantly off of his tongue.

 

 

“I’m genuinely sorry about earlier. This was a beyond hectic morning for me and I really didn’t mean to insult you in any way.” He apologized sincerely.

 

 

Her hand rested on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze so he'd look down at her. She had an understanding smile on her face.

 

“ Mr. Queen, It’s okay, really. I get it, I’m blonde and I wear short dresses. I look like an assistant. I know I gave you a hard time but don’t beat yourself up about it. I put

my foot in my mouth daily.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

She was warmer than any person in business had the right to be, warmer than warranted in the situation considering she had practically demoted him.

 

“You? You seem very controlled.” He replied, interested.

 

She laughed warmly and glanced up at him, the smile dying as she realizes he wasn’t being sarcastic.

 

“Oh right, you and Bruce were too busy arm wrestling to hear my babble. I make at least a hundred sexual innuendos a day unintentionally and babble another hundred

times trying to explain I didn’t mean it. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t gone on about how good looking you are or about your body yet. It’s a nice face and a very nice

body.” She nodded approvingly as she walked, before coming to a screeching halt.

He watched her with poor concealed mirth, warmth spreading in his body. Attraction hummed between them and he thanked god that she's noticed it too. 

 

“Oh frack. I said that out loud didn’t I?” She winced.

 

“Yes.” He mumbled, his body begging him to throw caution to the wind and kiss her.

 

 

His hand moved to the small of her back as he guided her into the elevator, unintentionally grazing the soft skin of her back where her dress had a small cutout. He

inhaled sharply and dragged his fingers off of her back.

 

“Well it was bound to happen with you working directly under me.” She said shrugging not nearly affected, but pausing after her words linger in the air.

 

 

 

“Oh my god. Not that you'd be under me, or I'd be over or on top of you. I’m not even going to try to amend that statement, forget I said anything.” She shuttered.

 

He couldn't take it anymore, it was all too much. Everything about her had him on edge, and he was about to lose his control again. He blamed it on the enclosed space of

the elevator and her flowery scent, his senses were overloaded with her.

 

 

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" He blurts out. Freezing as he realizes he said the words out loud.

 

She pauses first, her eyes widening and darting around the elevator.

 

 

"Dinner? Like dinner dinner? Or dinner?" She asked.

 

 

"Uh well isn't all dinner, dinner?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 

 

“That sounds like a bad idea.” She says honestly, her lips pulling to the side of her face.

 

She's absolutely right. It’s true. It’s a bad idea, terrible even, because he’ll order a bottle of wine and will want to kiss her like he's wanted to all freaking day. She'll wear

another dress that clings to her fantastic body, and she'll challenge him and he'll end up right back where he is right now.  

 

Wanting more than anything to take her home.

 

 **  
** "Let's do it." She finishes with a shrug and spins on her heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you're like it, or have any suggestions! Drop me a comment


	3. If I wasn't the arrow, you'd still be my salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This puppy is a wee bit dark and has mentions of depression and suicide, if this topic makes you uncomfortable please refrain from reading this chapter. 
> 
> Dark angst-y Oliver (as per usual am I right or am I right?) and sunny AF Felicity (see first parenthesis 

“If I wasn’t the Arrow, you’d still be my salvation.”

**  
  
**

* * *

* * *

 

It’d been a shitty year to say the least. His parents were gone as were his best friends, dead and buried.

The strong and powerful mother who’d smile at him indulgently and pat his head, scorning him for not taking things seriously. His strong willed father who’d sneak him

alcohol, and let him get away with murder.  Laurel, the woman he thought he loved,but learned from her that he couldn’t love at all. Tommy, his brother for all intensive

purposes, who was his partner in crime forged through a life of mischief and joint mishandlings.

All of them were suffocated and crushed by miles of rubble.

**  
  
**

His sister was alive, she had run to the east coast, cloaking herself protectively in anonymity and licking her wounds as far from Starling as she could. Running to a place

where the phantom happiness of memories didn’t haunt her or muddy her home with tragedy.

He had left it too, a home that was an apparition of happier times and tangible emptiness. It didn’t matter if he learned to shoot a gun in the backyard with his father, or

that he and Tommy shared their first beers at the end of the dock. All that mattered was that they were gone.

**  
  
**

So he was entirely alone now, his only company grief and guilt. Then came the acid, docile PTA moms turned rabid, moral men with guns threatening him. The grisly

details were unearthed about the disaster and it’s connection to his family, and he was the center of every family’s and misfortune. Bricks flew through his window and

threats were scribbled messily between paper margins, despite his ignorance of the planned disaster.

**  
  
**

Those angry people didn’t know he was drowning as much as they were, that he’d lost as much as they did. They didn't know that every story of a lost husband, a missing

child, or a family now homeless tore at the very fabric of his being. He drowned quietly, letting the long line of avenging friends and family of the dead keep his head

beneath the water’s surface.

**  
  
**

He saw a therapist three times a week, sinking into the worn leather loveseat feeling like an exhibit in a museum. He never spoke to Dr. Steele, the man with soulful eyes,

and ears that had heard the world's troubles. Oliver couldn’t find it within himself to complain to the man, but he listened to him if he spoke. He listened when he told him

to find a routine, create a schedule, to let his body go on autopilot as he sorted himself out.  So he did.

‘One more day’ he told himself as his childhood home was set on fire. One more day, when their graves were defaced. One more day, when a bomb ripped through his

parent’s company.  Always one more day.

It was a phrase his therapist told him to repeat whenever he wanted to give up. That he would be able to give up tomorrow, if he got through today. But when it came to

the next day, he’d repeat the phrase again. So, his life had been reduced to the nonchalant half hearted promise of people who claimed their diet’s would start tomorrow.

Dr.Steele said one day he won’t have to remind himself to live, that it’ll come as natural as breathing.

**  
  
**

It’s been 408 days, and there’s no end in sight.  Dr.Steele told him, live to remember the people you lost, to honor them. Doctor Steele told him to move on.

**  
  
**

But everyone else always said to cling to the memories, but it wasn’t the same as a hand on his head, a clap on the shoulder, or a hug. There was no tangibility, he

wanted something that would endure the subtle cracking of time. It’s said the more you recall a memory, the more it is distorted in your brain, that every wistful

remembrance taints the integrity of it, adding layers of unintentional embellishment. He found himself thinking of his family relentlessly during the day and in his fitful

sleep. So where did that leave all of them? Was his mother really warm despite her stony exterior? Was Tommy really as carefree as he remembered him?

**  
  
**

Even the sanctity of his memories had been taken from him.

**  
  
**

He wonders why he even does it anymore. Why he drags himself to work, feeds himself, and functions. Why he slides on the flirtatious and happy mask of Oliver Queen,

when in actuality he’s empty, devoid of all the things he used to be, all that was worthy of occupying a place on earth. For atonement? Or does the same selfishness linger

in his body?

**  
  
**

His routine is constant and inflexible, he lays in his bed in his apartment, the lights off and blinds drawn so the room is dark. He’ll stare at the ceiling until he falls into

restless sleep,  the TV blaring and his ipod playing an endless loop of music. He loathed the silence, that's when the loneliness was the loudest.

**  
  
**

He’s so deep in his own despair he can't remember the last time something made him feel good. Food tastes like sawdust, alcohol too ineffective, and sleep too sparing.

He was so far removed from the kid who stumbled through the city like he had owned it, thinking who the hell he was. Back when women were for fun and release, when

he didn't feel like he could barely get out of bed, when he was happy. He used to be horribly selfish, an awful quality that he shouldn't miss, but he does. Because at least

then, he cared about something even if it was only himself. It was a sad metamorphosis, but it's what happens when your parents turn out to be monsters, and your

friends get killed.  
  


  
Now, Oliver Queen cared about nothing and no one, not even himself.  
  


**  
  
**

On this particular night, snow was coming down in soft waves and the air had a stinging bite that had reddened his nose and ears. He stumbled into the warm retro diner

past his usual time, trudging through the snow had significantly slowed him.  His gaze flitted around the diner, and he relaxed as he saw a familiar blonde ponytail bobbing

enthusiastically. She was sitting on an old stool at the counter swiveling back and forth, in her usual domain that was brightened simply by her presence.

**  
  
**

The first time he came to this diner was months ago, he planned on getting some coffee, leaving a tip of whatever cash he had in his wallet, and not waking up the next

day. He had decided that after months of living in hell, that this night would be the end of it, he was at peace with the decision. His fingers tapped impatiently at the

counter, eager to get home and into oblivion when he heard the most warm laugh he’s ever heard, one so full bodied it begged for a companion. He froze where he stood,

the perpetual emptiness inside him easing while the laugh echoed around the dive. His head snapped to locate the sound, a laugh that had made him feel something other

than sick, for the first time in over year. The sound had come from a petite blonde woman, whose head was tossed back as she laughed richly.

**  
  
**

She was beautiful in a classic way, long blonde hair curled gently. Big blue eyes he'd kill to glance his way, but most attractively a palpable warmth in her smile. She sat

among the homeless men who begged their way to a free coffee, and angry old men waiting on bran muffins; but seemed determined to make the person next to her

smile. The old Oliver would have zeroed in on her the second he walked in, but now, he was so absorbed in a thick cloud of sorrow.

**  
  
**

He moved instinctively into a booth, facing away from the woman to not arouse suspicion. Suddenly, he wasn’t in such a rush to meet his maker in one form or another.

He didn’t know why, but he needed the woman in that moment, so he sat, praying her warmth would roll into his body and everything would be fixed. It didn’t and

everything wasn’t. But he listened to the woman speak and laugh for two hours before she tipped the waitress generously and bounced into the night.  A woman he didn’t

know, that should have meant nothing to him, was the reason he went home, laid in bed, and was alive the next morning.

**  
  
**

Night after night he came back, standing at the edge of a precipice of darkness every night, but feeling drawn towards the sun. Night after night she didn’t disappoint,

she'd come in, order a couple cups of coffee and make pleasant conversation with whoever was around her, extending his life one more day. Always one more day.

**  
  
**

Those days turned into weeks, then months. He was still depressed and felt worthless, but he didn’t sit with a pistol in his hand anymore, working for the courage to pull

the trigger on himself.

**  
  
**

Oliver learned a lot about her through his shameless eavesdropping from the safety of his booth; just far enough to maintain anonymity and close enough to catch her

words, and watch her reflection in the glass. She was whip smart, unbelievably smart really. Despite her intelligence she was a great conversationalist, never making the

person feel like they were of lower mental status. She had the propensity to babble uncontrollably, the most endearing thing he'd ever heard or seen. Every other sentence

being drawn out and losing topic or filled with accidental double entendres that made his lips twitch as she frantically tried to correct herself.

**  
  
**

She was considerate, passionate and soft, she was the embodiment of happiness, so it was fitting that her name was Felicity. That was two months ago, she’d

unknowingly become the brightness of his life. His reminder that "one more day" wouldn't be so bad. He never spoke to her, never made eye contact, because then the

bubble would burst and something would go wrong. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost this stranger too.

**  
  
**

Tonight he scooted into his regular booth, his pants snagging on the ripped upholstery that had seen better days. Within seconds, the nice older lady that always waited on

him had a cup of coffee in front of him and a menu. His stiff fingers pressed against the cup, softening from the heat. He took a sip from the stained white cup and reveled

in the warmth that spread in his body.

The coffee was bitter, not the indulgent roast he'd grown up on, but this coffee had the distinct taste of nostalgia. A taste that had a history behind it, and refused to

change through the years, it was one of two reasons he came back everyday. He was taking heed of his therapist's suggestion to enjoy the little things. This place, and the

woman in it, made him feel pretty close to warm and safe.

**  
  
**

He glanced in the glass window and watched as her arms moved animatedly as she spoke to the man next to her. He was huge, in the sense that he could probably snap

his neck like a pencil. He recognized the man, as he sat with Felicity often, laughing at her jokes and talking like family would. Oliver admits to being jealous of them, the

ease of their relationship, the man being so close to such radiance.

**  
  
**

" I know it sounds crazy, but there’s still beauty in it.” Her voice drifted over, he relaxed into the sound.

**  
  
**

“Take war for example. It's animalistic, there are casualties and innocents are slaughtered. But there's something beautiful in war, that people believe enough in their

mission to sacrifice themselves for it. That takes a special type of faith and strength." She continued.  
  
  


"I've been to war, three tours in Afghanistan, and let me tell you, there's nothing but darkness." The man she called ‘Digg’ replied.  
  


  
"You met your wife there Digg. Lyla would be pissed if you didn't say she was your light at least." The woman snorted.  

**  
  
**

The man Digg chuckled at her and shook his head.   
  
  


"I guess you're right. What about yours?"

  
  


“I don’t have a wife Digg.” She answered.

**  
  
**

Oliver’s lips twitched into a broken sort of smile.

“No, your war. Everyone has a war, a story. Five years of friendship and you never talk about yours.” He prodded gently.

  
  


"My war?" Her soft voice asked.   
  
He nodded.

**  
  
**

“It’s nerf compared to yours and we both know it.”  She folded into herself uncomfortably.

**  
  
**

“Humor me.”  
  


He watched as her glass reflection shrugged and looked into her coffee cup, her hands wrapping around it.

  
  


"Who I am I guess. I know, it sounds very Judy Bloom. I know I've never really talked about my family." She rolls her eyes.   
  
  


"All I ever have been is smart and poor. Poor with money, poorer with family, and so smart I'd always find trouble. I grew up in a tasteful trailer home in Vegas. My mom

worked on the strip as a waitress, my father was her boyfriend, he was trying to start his own software company.  My mom got pregnant and he bolted, came back a

month later begging her to forgive him. Neither of them wanted me, but by the time she'd gotten the stones to get an abortion it was past the legal time.” Her voice

steady and smooth.

**  
  
**

Oliver knew he should stop, that he was invading this woman’s privacy ten fold, but he couldn’t do it, he wanted to know everything about her.

**  
  
**

“After my mom had me, she stayed as indifferent as before. But my Dad loved me, he was my everything. I guess when I was born, all the doubts about fatherhood didn’t

matter. He'd take me on walks and read computer manuals to me. He didn't make me feel like an anomaly because I was smart, he told me to be proud of it. He was my

best friend." She shifts a bit, her fingers skimming up her nose and pinching its bridge.

**  
  
**

"My dad left us when I was six, no goodbye or explanation, nothing. It was just my mom and I after that, and whatever scum boyfriend she brought home. Things went

down from there, she lost her job and scrambled to find a new one. She still claims to this day that she was a cocktail waitress, but she'd come home with glitter stuck to

her skin, smelling like hell, and she'd pay for our boxed ramen dinners with only singles." She said chuckling in spite of herself.

 

  
"We were the definition of white trash.  Goodwill clothes, scraps for dinner most nights ,and overdue bills stacked on the counter. I was too smart for public school, and

too poor for the opportunities given to me elsewhere. My mom thought I was odd, and refused to let me play with my computers in the house or read. I reminded her too

much of my dad, so I was just easier to ignore. I was so scared of people leaving me I barely spoke, not letting myself get close enough to anyone so they couldn’t leave."

She continued. 

  
  


"But I knew I wanted to be more than just some girl who let herself be a victim of her circumstances. I dragged myself out from that trailer and worked my ass off in

school, I kind of sort of illegally counted cards in the casinos to pay for my tuition at MIT. I stood up and walked out for the first time in my life, instead of waiting to be

abandoned. I haven’t looked back since. It's nothing to compare to war.” She sipped from her coffee, fidgeting uncomfortably.   
  
  


"But I learned I'm stronger than I thought, and that no matter if everything is working against you, you’ll get there if you put your head down and move on. Because life

always is working against you; it's always popping your tires,  always taking the people you love away from you, and filling up your plate. But If you can't find one bright

thing in your day, one reason to do it all, what's the point?”  She finished, prodding the impenetrable shield inside himself.  
  


 

“Wow.” The man responded thoughtfully.  
  
  


"Had I known we'd get this deep I would have spiked my milkshake first." She says good naturedly.

**  
  
**

“You’re even more amazing than I thought Felicity.”

**  
  
**

“I found my light, hope.It’s everywhere, you just need to care enough to find it." She responded

**  
  
**

She rose from her chair hugging the man goodbye and making promises of meeting next week and approaches a waitress, whispering to her and passing her a small

paper. She nodded and smiled, pulling on her purple pea coat and buttoning it up, flipping the scarf over her neck.She opened the door of the shop, the freezing air

whooshing behind her, leaving sooner than he wished. He watched after her as he always did, but a voice interrupted him tonight.

**  
  
**

“Hey hon?” A waitress said, he looked away from where she was walking and met the curious eyes of the woman.

**  
  
**

“Yes?” He responded.

**  
  
**

“The girl who just left wanted me to bring you this.” She set down a steaming cup of coffee on it’s small plate and a square of paper wedged beneath it. He looked after

Felicity, who bounced across the snowy street, blonde hair shining in the street lights. He fingered the small square of paper and unfolded it carefully. Three

words were written delicately on the paper.

**  
  
**

_**Find your light.** _

**  
  
**He smiled and slid it into his pocket, he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> You like? Let me know!


End file.
